


1956 in the Files

by oneinspats



Category: Smiley's People - John Le Carré, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - John Le Carré
Genre: Budapest 1956, Drabble, Gen, Hungarian Revolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:48:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneinspats/pseuds/oneinspats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter is asking inconvenient questions. Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1956 in the Files

**Author's Note:**

> The books are dodgy on Toby's past. I've written on that extensively elsewhere so I shan't do it here. That said there's a chance he was in the country during the 1956 revolution. Just something 'fun' to consider.

Peter watched him cross the room. It was small, eight feet at most, maybe ten, and his desk was taking up most of it, sitting there jammed under the window. The dirty window that afforded a view of – a view of – well, nothing. A shame, the man deserved better. A closet for a lamplighter, for some reason it made sense to him, for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. But the confusion didn't destroy the poetics of it.  
“Where you in Budapest in '56?” Peter asked as Toby crossed back, files in hand. His expression didn't change, still looking like a dead fish as Connie described it.  
“Here are your files,” he replied in a flat voice. The one he used when he was sober and trying to be something he wasn't. Peter was of a mind, on occasion, to bash the smaller man over the head and yell at him that no, he would never be British, it didn't matter how hard he tried, he would never be British, so stop trying. Please. Just stop. It made him sick, actually.  
“Thanks, and were you?” He took out a cigarette, Toby fixed the books on his desk. “Did you march with them?”  
“You have your files.” He said, dead fish turning into stuffed frog as lips pursed.  
“Come on,” he laughed, “were you?”  
“Peter.”  
“Yes?”  
“I'm busy.” And he sat down with such conviction Peter knew better than to say anything more. He left with another murmur of thanks and a lingering look.


End file.
